Finding Father, finding lovePt 1
by theatrebaby88
Summary: Twenty six years after being forced to leave the woman he loves, Sir Tristan of Lyonesse comes face to face with his past.


**A small story based on the legend of Tristan and Isolde, This is not based on the film: WARNING- over 18's ONLY EXPLICIT CONTENT:** The wind was strong and cold, Sir Tristan stood looking out to the field; he pulled his cloak tighter round him to ward off the chill. He had been out walking, something he did most days. Now, approaching his fiftieth birthday; he was beginning to feel his age, he knew he was no longer a young knight. His hair was greying, wrinkles and the weather had taken hold of his once handsome features. Tristan was about to leave when he heard a voice behind him. "Excuse me; Sir Tristan of Lyonesse?" Tristan turned around quickly to see a young woman standing behind him; he gasped, the woman was no older than nineteen, her red curls framed her ivory face, her eyes where sparkling emerald; she was the Image of her mother. Tristan smiled at the woman; "Yes, yes that is me. Can I help you in any way young lady?" The woman stepped towards him, her voice solemn when she spoke; "Yes. I belive you know my mother, Isolde of Ireland." Tristan sucked in air through his teeth; it was as if someone had punched him in the chest when the young woman said _her _name. Tristan took a second then glanced to the woman; "Yes I knew your mother…come, let us go and take shelter."

The pair walked back to Tristan's home; it was definitely the home of a nobleman and reminded the woman of her own home. Tristan pulled out a chair for the young woman and lit a fire; he then heated some milk over the fire and served some to the woman. "I forgot to ask you your name my dear…forgive me." The woman smiled up at him; "If you knew my mother then you really should not need to ask me" she laughed a little; Tristan noticed she had her mother's smile, and a similar laugh. "My name is Isolde Brangaen. I was named after my mother and one of her dearest friends." Tristan smiled, he thought Isolde would have kept tradition. Tristan thought for a second; it had been just over nineteen years since he had left Cornwall. He glanced to the woman and took in her features. "How old are you Isolde?" Saying her name stung his heart, as he thought of the woman he had to leave behind all those years ago. "I am nineteen; I will be twenty in eight moons." Tristan's eyes grew wide. "Why are you here, I do not mean to sound rude but why come and find me." Isolde glanced around the room, as if searching for the words. She stumbled over them for a moment then finally found her voice. "Sir Tristan, I came here to find you because…I needed to know where I came from, to know my father, you are my father Tristan, my mother found out she was expecting me days after you left for battle." Tristan sat speechless then stood from his seat; he walked over to the young Isolde and put his arms around her. "Oh Jesus; I'm so sorry I was never there for you both. If I had have known…how was your life, I want to know everything about you, please, tell me everything." He cupped his daughters face in his hands, he only realised now that he could barely see her from the tears in his own eyes, he ran his sleeve across his face then walked across to a corked bottle; he opened it and poured a considerable amount into his milk, he re-stopped the bottle and sat again across from his daughter and took a sip of his drink; "I'm listening."

Isolde shut her eyes for a moment; then thought back to what she had been told of when her mother was expecting her. "My mother found out she was expecting within days of you being called to battle; when she was late. Her pregnancy was plagued, she was always sick, her labour was long and she nearly died giving birth to me. She was such an amazing mother; always putting me first. She was never unhappy…except for when she thought of you and my brother…" She took a sip from her cup and seemed to think hard, as if she was searching the very back of her mind then smiled; "I was told that when Cornwall tried to bring down Camelot, by holding siege and practically locking the citizens in, there were many injured and mother was tending to the injured and feeding me, I was around two years old but food was scarce due to the siege, so she still fed me so as I would not go hungry. She acted as nurse-maid for a noblewoman who did not wish to feed her child, so she was doing quite a lot during the siege, feeding two children, tending to the injured and anything else that was asked of her." Tristan smiled, that was typical Isolde, always reliable in times of emergency. He took another sip from his tankard then thought for a second; "What of the others during the siege? What of Kurwenal and Brangaen? What of Arthur; Gwen and Lohot?" Tristan was greatly concerned for his friends; he had heard of the siege of Camelot, how Cornish knights had surrounded the gates, killed hundreds and injured many more. The siege had lasted almost a year and the residents had been reduced to eating whatever they could find, disease was rife even with the lands greatest physician caring for the ill and injured. He wondered how his lover and his daughter had survived it, and if his friends had.

Isolde took another drink then reached for the bottle on the table and poured a small amount into her cup, swirling the milky-liquor mixture around. "Brangaen survived the siege, as did Kurwenal. They had a son the year after; they called him Kurwenal-Tristan after his father and yourself. Arthur and Gwen survived as did Lohot and he's not a baby anymore, he is twenty eight, a grown man with a wife and children. God knows how we all survived when so many did not, we ate rats and whatever we could get our hands on, and any women lactating gave milk if they could, as water was almost unavailable-apparently it tasted very sweet, strange in comparison to cowls or goats milk. In time the Cornish knights gave up and retreated, everyone should have celebrated, instead we buried our dead and harvested what we could, everyone from the peasants to Queen Guinevere worked together to rebuild Camelot, by the time it was finished I was five years old, it took two years to rebuild the Kingdom." Isolde stopped and took a large gulp of her drink. She searched her father's eyes then reached over and took his hand, "She always told me about you, about how you were brave and handsome, how much she loved you and how you risked everything…everything for her. She thought you were dead…what happened, why did you not return to her…to us?" Tristan sighed, his daughter deserved an explanation, he thought back almost twenty years, he had been called to battle for Mark, as he was still his best knight, He had not known it was a trick, why Mark had waited almost ten years to get his revenge Tristan never knew. He gave Isolde's hand a gentle squeeze then pursed his lips; "I awoke one morning and watched your mother sleeping beside me, she was so beautiful, I stroked her cheek to try and wake her, she fluttered her eyes a little before looking up at me, she smiled and kissed me; there was nothing unusual about that day, we got up and your mother made us a hearty breakfast, she readied herself and went to the market. I had a meeting with the King; Arthur; so I readied myself and made my way there. When I got back it was late morning, your mother had a stew on the fire and was brewing draughts. She was always over her books and jars! A messenger came with a letter, it bore Marks seal. I opened it and it was a summons to go into battle with him against Wessex, as its king had declared war. When I got to Cornwall I was beaten, thrown in the dungeon and tortured daily for fifteen years. Until Mark passed away, it was a strange fit that ended his life. I should have returned straight away but how could I; Mark would have…" Isolde cut him off; "Sent a letter to mother claiming you had been killed in battle, I know, she showed me it…" Tristan sighed; "If I had have just turned up after being declared dead, what if she had found another and moved on, how much devastation was I to cause to her, I had already ruined her first marriage and she went through…enough…enough…horrors; in her years with Mark. I could not have put her through that again…and I suppose I felt that running was easier for me, if I did not see her I would never have to explain and I would never have to relive it." Tristan subconsciously touched the right side of his chest. Underneath his shirt was a long white scar causes by a heated blade, his back was scarred from the metal on the end of the whip. A single tear snaked out of his eye and down his face, he wiped it away. "Tell me more of your childhood…" Isolde emptied her tankard and thought for a moment then chuckled; "I remember I was sitting one morning; I would have been eight years old; and mother was combing my hair and when she finished combing it, she was gathering sections to braid it for me and I was wriggling 'Isolde, sit still girl!' she scolded me. So I sat still as she fixed my hair and as I was sitting I got thinking, both Mama- I called her Mama then- and I share the same name, and so does Grandmamma. When she had finished I turned to her and asked 'Mama, if I we are both called Isolde, does that mean that I am Isolde the younger, and you are Isolde the elder?' She looked at me as if I had just called her a rather unsavoury name; she acted offended and said 'What! Of course not, you are Isolde the younger, Grandmamma is Isolde the elder and I am Isolde the still-quite-young!' I remember finding that quite funny at the time…she had quite a wit!" Tristan laughed, he knew that Isolde could be rather funny at times, very sharp. He thought for a second; "Your mother could be quite fiery, have you ever seen her temper?" Isolde rolled her eyes then smiled "Oh yes, but never directed at me. It was only last year; a young man by the name of Acrion Felyts asked to court me, but as I never knew you then, he had to ask my mother. So she sat him down and asked him what his intentions were and he said they were honourable, so mother gave her permission for us to court…until she overheard him talking to his friends in the market place about his real intentions…she lifted the first thing she could find…thank god it was a salmon and not anything heavier and she slapped him with it…she later said she had given him a cod-wallop!" Isolde was laughing at her mother's humour. Tristan could not help but laugh either; that was _his_ Isolde, the woman who could verbally berate you then have you fall in love with her all over again with just a look, or some form of quick-witted one liner. Isolde then slid her tankard to her father, who topped it up with the still-warm milk. She poured a bit more of the liquor in to taste. Isolde dropped her eyes to the floor as she thought; Tristan noticed and reached across for his daughter's hand; "What is it sweetheart, what troubles you?" Isolde wiped tears from her eyes "It is just, I did see mothers temper fully once, still it was not directed at me but it was still frightening…" Tristan held her hand "It is alright, tell me, what happened." Isolde was trembling now "When I was sixteen I was in my chamber, my bedroom door opened and there was a man, he came in shut the door behind him and made an advance on me. I screamed as loud as I could and mother ran to the room, the man looked at mother then laughed and then he spoke, he said 'It is like hunting bear; threaten the cub and mama comes running…but the cub was never in danger in the first place, it was always the bear the hunter wanted' the look in mother's eyes…she was terrified, she ordered me to leave the room. After a while the man left my room, and mother followed him shortly after. She was ashen, dishevelled, she looked emotionally broken…then she held me and asked if _I_ was alright…I could feel she was shaking yet she was concerned for me after what he had done, we thought he had left, then he turned back and approached us, he placed his hand on my face and told me I was just a beautiful as my mother, and maybe I would get the pleasure of meeting him again. Suddenly mother's eyes grew wide and her lips tightened, she struck him straight on the mouth with her fist, he stood there and looked her up and down, part of her dress was bloody he smiled as he lingered on it, knowing what had caused it, then he spoke 'bad idea Isolde, very bad idea…' he struck her back, she fell backwards then he grabbed me, mother got up and pulled me from him, she stood in front of me and glared at the man then she spoke and her voice was different, it was almost a hiss 'Melot, I do not care what you do to me, but not my daughter you sick fuck' She was like a madwoman, I ran out and fetched a guard…it took two of them to restrain her, she was not even slapping him, she was punching him as hard as she could over and over again…it was so frightening." Tristan could not stop the tears running down his face, "Melot…"

Isolde was shaking at the memory; "He was giving as many strikes as he was getting, but mainly to mother's ribs and chest, as he was trying to defend himself…back when mother was still strong, when she could have ran him through if her sword had been near."

Tristan got up and held his daughter for a few moments until she had stopped shaking. He then looked into his daughters eyes, they were exactly like her mother's; wide almonds of emerald. "What of your mother…is she…" Isolde cut him off again; "She is alive, but she is ill, very ill. She has had the sweating sickness for a while now, she seems to recover for a while then it returns. She tries to hide it, gets on with things and makes it seem as if everything is alright. I hear her coughing, vomiting and having to change her dress a few times during the day. But she thinks I do not notice these things. At the moment she seems alright, which is why I came now, I want you to return with me to Camelot, to be reunited with mother. She missed you greatly. She never had another man after you, there were many wanted her, a few who tried and one who succeeded in taking her body, but only one who ever held her heart…that was you." Tristan stood and pulled his daughter up "well, come on then, what are we waiting for girl! How far are we from Camelot?"

Isolde laughed "We are a day's journey away on foot, half a day on horseback; if we leave now, right now, we should arrive tonight, late tonight."

Tristan gathered a two loaves and some water and made his way out the door, calling out for his daughter to hurry. The pair mounted their horses and began to ride towards Camelot, Isolde leading the way. Tristan stayed at his daughters side; "What of Brangaen and Kurwenal now, Kurwenal would be fifty by now and Brangaen…my word." Isolde glanced away; "Kurwenal is doing well, I shall leave it to mother to tell you of Brangaen."

Tristan looked away for a moment; "Ah…"

After a while they saw Camelot in the distance; Isolde gave her horse a sharp kick in the flanks to spur it on, her father followed suite. Within the hour they reached Camelot, Isolde led her father to the stables to tie up the horses then went home, telling her father to wait outside for a moment. She found her mother pacing the kitchen looking frantic; her mother turned and saw her then embraced her. "Isolde! Where were you girl! I was frightened that something had happened to you. Oh Sol; if you believe you will be away so long please let me know."

The young woman smiled at her mother, she had always called her Sol; from being a baby, to avoid any confusion when being spoken to in a crowd. "Close your eyes mother, I have a surprise for you." Isolde smiled back at her daughter "Sol, what _are_ you up to?" Sol shook her head; "Mother! Just shut your eyes for a moment _please_ and no peeking!" Isolde closed her eyes tight and waited. Sol ran out of the room and let her father in and guided him in silence to the kitchen. Tristan stood in front of Isolde he was inches from her, he could smell the scent of her perfume, mainly faded through the day.

Sol stood beside her mother; "Open your eyes mama."

Isolde opened her eyes and saw Tristan; she screamed in half excitement half shock then stepped back. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth tightened, she was obviously angry. Tristan felt the sting of Isolde's hand across his face as she struck him; "You left me!" her voice was high and upset; "You left me for over nineteen years, I had your daughter, I was _pregnant_ and you were never here, why the hell did you not return, was I not enough, did I sacrifice everything for nothing? Bastard!" She lifted her hand to slap Tristan again; he held her wrists to avoid being struck. "Isolde! Calm down, please let me explain!" Isolde pulled from Tristan's grip and sat down. "Why? Why did you leave me Tristan?" Tristan pulled up a chair opposite Isolde, when he spoke his voice showed his sadness and anger, he did not hold back his tears anymore, he let himself cry; he needed to. "Isolde; the day I was called to ride into battle with Mark, it was all a trick, I rode to Cornwall where I was met by Melot and a few others, men I did not know. Melot requested that I removed my weapons, and I obliged. I was attacked, beaten on the spot by Melot and his thugs; I was then brought before Mark, who imprisoned me for eighteen years-until his death. Every day I was beaten, tortured and starved. The worst day was when Melot did the torture himself, he flogged me with a metal tipped whip then forced me into the chair of torture, after a few hours he took me to the rack…the pain was almost unbearable. I wished for death that day, but not due to the physical pains, those I could cope with; but Melot knew how to get to me. He removed me from the rack and sat me on a stool, I was barely conscious. He then showed me the pear of anguish; there was old blood on it. He smiled an evil smile to me; '_Do you remember her screams, I do, I heard them. I remember how Mark used this very pear to show your lover what being a whore gets a woman. I have friends in Camelot; Tristan; lonely friends. Maybe I should tell them of your woman, they can take your place in her bed.'_ He opened the pear with every word he said until it could open no more. He told me that you would never be alone, but his words were not kind, without thinking I said your name, and Melot heated my sword, he placed the red hot blade to my chest, I have never felt pain like it. Shortly after; Mark died, it was a strange fit that took his life; he died instantly. After his death I was freed, but although I wanted to return, I could not. I thought that if I had been pronounced dead then you would have found another. I could not have ruined another marriage; you went through so much when Mark knew of us, how could I put you through that again? So I stayed away…for both our sake. Isolde I am sorry."

Isolde threw her arms round Tristan's neck; "Hush now; do not apologise. It was never your fault, never your fault Tristan. You are home now, with us." Isolde glanced to her daughter; tears were streaming down the young woman's face, she got up from Tristan and embraced her daughter. "It is alright Sol, your father is alright." Isolde's voice was almost a whisper, she tried to keep composure and not let her voice break; "Thank you darling. Thank you so much for bringing him home."

Tristan rose from his seat and approached the women; he embraced them both then kissed them each on the head. Suddenly he pulled Isolde close and kissed her passionately, not caring for that moment that their daughter was in the room. Sol rolled her eyes and laughed. "It is getting late; I think I shall go on to bed." Tristan pulled back from Isolde for a second and glanced to Sol. "Goodnight, Princess." He embraced his daughter. Sol gave Tristan a small kiss on the cheek, "Goodnight, Father."

Isolde looked out the window, it was pitch black. "It is quite late…I think I shall go to bed as well. Are you coming Tristan?" Tristan took Isolde's hand as she led him to the room they once shared; it had barely changed, there were new sheets on the bed and new drapes around it, but that was all. Tristan removed his shirt; he was unaware of Isolde watching him. She sat on the edge of the bed as Tristan undressed; she noticed the white scar that ran down the right side of his chest, from when Melot had branded him. Lower down she noticed a long scar across his stomach caused by a poisoned wound twenty-six years ago, that she had helped him recover from back in Ireland when she was a young woman of nineteen. His body had also changed, his thick chest hair was greying and the muscles in his chest and stomach were less defined. There were scars on his back from countless floggings. Isolde glanced to his face, wrinkles now creased in the corners of his eyes and mouth, his once jet black hair was flecked with grey. Tristan removed his trousers and Isolde realised that the muscles in his legs and arms were still well defined and powerful; she caught herself staring and got up. She walked to the wardrobe and selected a nightgown from it. Tristan slid into bed; he had brought nothing but the clothes on his back. He lay there and watched as Isolde undressed, unbuttoning her dress and letting it fall to the floor, he wondered if she kept the same routine. She stepped out of her dress and hung it across a chair, then made her way to the basin in the corner. Isolde removed her undergarments as Tristan watched her as she undressed; she was thinner that he remembered; months of almost constant sweating sickness had weakened her. Feeding their daughter and acting as wet nurse had taken its toll on her once firm breasts. Scars from Marks belt criss-crossed her back, low down near the very bottom of her abdomen was a small scar, caused by his jealous first wife, in an underhand attack she had stabbed Isolde with a poisoned dagger, Tristan recalled how ill she had been then, and how she fought her way from death solely for him. Isolde washed herself over as Tristan continued to watch, and though she was no longer a young woman she was still beautiful, at least to him. He got up and approached her, his desire apparent. He placed his hands on her waist and kissed her neck, "Is, you are still the most stunning woman I could have laid eyes on." He glanced into the mirror above the basin, he looked at their reflection, Isolde's hair was streaked with beginnings of white and a few fine lines were appearing at the corners of her eyes and mouth, he himself looked much older." Tristan was brought out of his thoughts by a husky voice… "Lay with me Tristan, make me yours again." Tristan looked to Isolde; she met his eyes and gave him a look he had not seen in almost twenty years. He pulled Isolde close and kissed her passionately, his tongue dancing with hers, he put his hand under Isolde's backside and lifted her into his arms, giving her backside a quick squeeze. He carried her to their bed and lay her down, he began to kiss every inch of her body, kissing her neck then making his way down to her breasts, he took her nipple into his mouth and gently sucked the erect bud, Isolde moaned under his touch. "Oh, you like that?" he said, his voice was deep and husky. Isolde moaned again "mmmhmm...mmm." Tristan smiled seductively "well, if you like that…" he kissed his way down her stomach, past the mound of red curls that framed her womanhood. "Maybe you will enjoy this even more." Tristan began to taste her, gently at first then faster as her desire built, she cried out in pleasure as her body arched, a familiar heat spread throughout her as she grasped the sheets. Tristan stopped and kissed his way back up to her lips, kissing her fully. As he kissed her he nestled between her legs, and began to rub her now sensitive area with his aroused manhood, gently pushing himself inside her. They moved together as the pleasure grew, it had been so long. Tristan's low moans became urgent as Isolde's cries of pleasure grew louder, her back arched once again as she tightened around Tristan, calling his name. The sudden flutter of Isolde's orgasm caused a beautiful heat to course through Tristan's groin as he spilled his seed inside her. Isolde felt as though she was full of his hot liquid, the sudden feeling causing shock waves through her already sensitive parts. Tristan pulled out and held Isolde in his arms. For the first time in twenty years, Isolde felt desired, she felt wanted and loved, more than just a mother. Tristan had made her feel like a woman again. She propped herself up on her elbow "Tristan, Is breá liom tú." Tristan smiled and kissed his woman; "Isolde, I love you too my darling."

After a few moments, Isolde felt hardness against her thigh, she realised that Tristan was still very aroused. She gave him a seductive smile and pulled the covers back, she reached down and grasped his erection and began to gently stroke him; Tristan let a small moan escape his throat. As Tristan's need grew urgent, Isolde grasped the base of his shaft with one hand and massaged the sensitive head with the other. Tristan began to tremble. Isolde kissed down his body and began to kiss the top of his bulging manhood. Tristan started up, "Isolde, what are you doing? That is no way for a noble woman to behave!" Isolde glanced up and smiled, "You tasted me; I want to taste you…now, lay back and enjoy it." Isolde reached up and placed her hand on Tristan's chest; pushing him back onto the bed. She took him into her mouth and teased him with her tongue, using her hand on his shaft she brought him to the edge then lifted her mouth from him, licking a sticky clear liquid from the head of his arousal. Isolde knelt above him pumping his shaft with both hands, Tristan let out a cried of pleasure as a mess of sticky white landed on Isolde's breasts and stomach. She saw that quite a lot had gotten onto Tristan's shaft; she lent down and took him into her mouth once more, tasting the salty liquid that covered them both. Tristan was shocked but pleased at Isolde's behaviour in the bed room that night. The night went on for hours until the first chinks of light flowed through the windows. Their sheets were soaked with the perfume of lovers; its scent filled the room. Tristan held Isolde tight as the couple fell exhausted and satisfied into a deep sleep.


End file.
